


Let's (Not) Thank the Academy

by juniorstarcatcher



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Hollywood, Modern Era, The Oscars, she gets cold and has to borrow his jacket and it's very cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:47:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniorstarcatcher/pseuds/juniorstarcatcher
Summary: Rose Tico was nominated for an Oscar...and lost.Armitage Hux was nominated for an Oscar...and lost.But when the two find each other after the ceremony, they win more than a stupid trophy.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico
Comments: 26
Kudos: 195





	Let's (Not) Thank the Academy

Months. She had spent months on that damn droid. Weeks at the drafting table, running the design by every one of the seemingly endless people who had creative input on the film. Even longer building the damn thing, longer than _that_ getting it to work.

  
They weren’t going to CGI one of the most important characters in the film; not on her watch. So, she’d thrown herself into the design and making of a practical robot. One that could roll across sands and harsh snow-plains as easily as it could sprint down poured-concrete hallways. It had personality. It had heart. It had meme potential, for God's sake. 

Months working on this creature hadn’t been kind and they certainly hadn’t been easy. But for the love of this movie, of this franchise she’d grown up watching and the series that made her want to design Great and Beautiful and Complex things for the big screen, she’d poured her heart into it.

So, on the night of The Academy Awards, she thought that for once— _finally_ —she was going to get the recognition she deserved. She just knew, hoped, and believed that they would see, embodied in that little robot, that her heart was there, on-screen, for everyone to see.

She hoped and believed that recognition would finally make her feel seen. Not just some tinkerer working away in the greasy shadows of a dingy workshop, but a _real_ part of this community.

Rose Tico was tired of being invisible. But, as it turned out, tonight was not the night that that would change. When the award was read, they called her name only once.

And an hour later, when the afterparty was in full swing and she was _sure_ no one would miss her—after all, who would miss the invisible girl, the girl who had given her entire soul to something only for it to be ignored—she slipped out of a side entrance, dropped to a concrete step, and gave over to the tears that she’d been painfully swallowing back since she had to watch someone else accept the award.

Eventually, she didn’t know if it was two minutes or two hours later, the door swung open again, someone took two steps out, and startled at the sight of her. A posh, tense, masculine British voice cut over the muffled sounds of the party locked away inside the building behind them. 

“I beg your pardon.”

Rose jumped, but rushed to compose herself. This wasn’t an industry where you could show weakness, especially not as a woman. Sniffling, she tried to hide the fact that she was crying in an alleyway, but it wasn’t any use. Might as well own it now. “Sorry. Am I in your crying spot?”

“Certainly not. It doesn’t _do_ to—“

That’s when she turned around to see Armitage Hux— _the_ Armitage Hux, the oh-so serious Shakespeare actor who always seemed to find himself feuding in the tabloids with Ben Solo, the one who’d lost to him tonight—standing over her, resplendent in a military-style tuxedo and practically glowing in the pale echo of the far-away streetlights. He was…far more handsome in person than he was in pictures, she realized with a small thrill. But he was also strangely closed-off. Rumors persisted that he was a stuck-up ponce, a real British asshole who saw everything and everyone beneath him. But Rose didn’t see it that way, at least not now. He looked…Surprised… at her presence…but not displeased. Just guarded. He straightened to his full, towering height.

"Oh. You’re Miss…" He searched her face. "Miss Rose Tico, aren’t you? You built that creature from that film about the space wars.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. It was the first time since losing that she’d felt like crying, so that, at least, was something. “Space Wars?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t get out to see many films. Especially if they don’t have subtitles or if they weren’t originally written by Shakespeare.”

Ah, there was that famed arrogance she’d read so much about. She chuckled and drew her knees in closer to her chest, ruffling the fabric of her cream-colored gown. “You know, I _can_ believe that.”

For a moment, there was silence only punctuated by the random scream of a siren or the sound of her own heartbeat. The possibility of a career blow that sometimes came from challenging actors hung over her head, but he never took it. Instead, he considered her, and then remarked, cooly:

“You’re shivering.”

“Everyone told me LA was this beautiful, perpetually 70-degree weather. The silk gown feels silly in retrospect.”

Everything about her felt silly, in retrospect. Silly to think that she could ever look beautiful in this gown. Silly to think it mattered what she wore. Silly to think she would ever be up there, standing with a statuette as everyone applauded.

Silly to think she belonged here.

“I don’t think you could ever be _silly_ , Miss Tico. May I?”

The rustle of fabric pulled her attention away from her fingernails, which she’d been inspecting in a vain attempt to stop thinking about how his eyes reminded her of a perfect desert sky, how they looked like the first glimpse of morning blue hanging over a highway at the start of a road trip. When she caught those eyes again, it was over the collar of his black jacket, which he now offered to her.

That could have put to bed the rumors that he was uncomfortable with his body, envious of the chiseled Hollywood badasses he usually shared the magazine covers with. Or…or perhaps he was putting aside his fear and insecurities so she wouldn’t feel quite so miserable.

She nodded, once, and stood to her full height so he could lower the fabric down around her shoulders. He didn’t immediately move away, though, choosing instead to keep his fingers’ loose hold on his lapel.

They were standing so close she could feel his breath. So close she could stand up on tip-toe and kiss him. So close that she was now completely, hopelessly lost in his eyes. Still, her brow knitted slightly.

“Why are you being so nice to me? Aren’t you supposed to be the Ice King of all Hollywood?”

  
Armitage released his hold on the collar, freeing her from his magnetic presence. His face was a carefully composed mask of professional, almost mechanical distance, but she knew enough about machines to know that they all had their breaking point. He cleared his throat. “…All ice thaws eventually.”

“Spoken like a true poet,” Rose said, smirking.

He ducked his head, maybe to hide a blush — she couldn’t tell—and then moved back to the door that would lead him back to the party. But just as his hand tightened around the knob, he turned back to her and rushed out—

“Your work was really quite remarkable. They were fools not to have awarded you the prize.”

So honest. So direct. So passionate. It was as if he’d been holding it a shaken soda bottle for too long, only to explode forth the second he let a little bit of pressure out. Rose swallowed back a fresh wave of emotion.

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I know I don’t. But if a Space Wars novice like me can see that it was a brilliant design, then you must know how clever it was.” 

Rose stared at her shoes, only glancing up at him under her mascara-d lashed every few words to punctuate her thoughts. “I loved building it. Loved being apart of these stories, even in my own, small way. And I know that should be all that matters. But..” She swallowed, hard, and met his gaze again. Lying wasn’t her strong suit. The second she met his blue eyes, the truth came tumbling out of her. “I wanted them to like me. I wanted them to see me.” 

“You _are_ liked. You are liked a great deal. And believe me, Miss Rose Tico.” Two fingers tenderly touched Rose’s chin, pulling her back to his brilliant stare. As honest as she’d been with him, he was now being with her. No amount of acting could touch her this deeply. “I see you.”

After a moment, he cleared his throat again.

“Would you…would you care to join me at the party? Have a few drinks? Laugh in the faces of those who wronged you? We’d make quite the shocking pair.”

What a thought. The scrappy, loser mechanic spending the night drinking and dancing with the Ice King of Hollywood? For the first time, Rose let a smile—an honest to goodness smile—break out across her lips. “Yeah. I think I’d like that. Here.”

She reached to slip the jacket off of her shoulders, but he placed his hand over hers before she could manage it. It wasn’t difficult to see that emotions—real, unfiltered, unrehearsed ones—were new to him. Somehow, that made his attempts all the sweeter.

“Oh, no. Keep it. It’s…It’s quite fetching on you.”

And when he smiled at her then, she finally got what he meant when he told her that he saw her. She finally felt seen.

The next morning, she woke up back at her house, still slightly giddy from the champagne and still wrapped up in his jacket. Snuggling in deeper to the fabric, she resolved to go back to sleep— _just five more minutes…or hours—_ only to be interrupted by a courier at the door.

She greeted him and took a small package out of his hands, waiting until he was gone to tear into the box.

A little gold man, polished to a plastic shine, rested in there. One of those cheap, plastic things you can buy on Sunset Boulevard for five bucks. But it was the handwritten note hung around its neck that made it priceless.

_Dear Miss Tico,_

_May little gold man stand on your mantel, a placeholder until the day The Academy honors you in the way you deserve. I know you shall always have my vote._

_And I know I shall never forget last night. The night when losing brought me the greatest honor — meeting you._

_Yours,_

_Armitage Hux_

Rose held the award to her chest for a long, steady moment. Someone believed in her. Someone believed in her. That’s all that she’d wanted.

But, no. It was more than that, wasn’t it? _He_ believed in her. Armitage Hux, Ice Prince of Hollywood, had thawed for her.

Frantically, she dug in her phone for anyone she could call, anyone she knew who might be able to get them back in touch. She needed to see him again.

After all…she still had his coat.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, everyone! Thank you so much for reading! This was inspired by @marriagestorys and @potatotaters on twitter, and I am so happy to share it with you. Please let me know what you think either here in the comments, or on twitter where I'm @jrstarcatcher!


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